So now I’ve told you all about this very sad affair,
’Bout Sally marryin’ a butcher, a butcher with red har;
But whether it ’taws a boy or a gal child, the letter never said,
It only said the baby’s har was “inclined to be red.”
————
Some years have passed since Bowers told his very plaintive tale;
Time smoothed his grief, revived his hopes, his courage did not fail;
He worked along as best he could, and his dear brother Ike
Kept Joseph pretty well posted on matters back in Pike.
Smallpox it knocked the butcher out, and Joe he wandered home;
He “played for even” with success, and cares no more to roam;
Joe married Sally and the shop, he soothed her loving heart,
And now he has her red-haired son to drive the butcher cart.
“Oh, by the way, Jeff,” asked one of the boys, “did you visit Pioneer Hall when you was down to the Bay?”
“Yes, indeed, I did,” answered Jeff, “and an acquaintance of mine handed in my name for admission as a member of the society.”
“They say ’tis a fine building, Jeff.”
“Yes, it is, and it is the headquarters for the old boys to meet and talk over old times.”
“Well, are there many old miners among them?” asks another.
“No, I don’t think there are, boys. I saw a great many of the old pioneers around, but none of them looked as though they ever roughed it much in the mines.”
“Oh, well,” said Jersey, “living down there you know, sporting store clothes and such things, of course, would make the old miners appear more like gentlemen, you know, in a little while.”
“Oh, yes,” remarked Pike, “and maybe when we go down thar, boys, and put on ther biled shirt and tother fixins, why they’ll take us for gentlemen, too. You bet they will.”